


His Last Wish

by kettlepillow



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort, Feelings, Finding Shelter, Hurt John Watson, Love at First Sight, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 20:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5104490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kettlepillow/pseuds/kettlepillow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After returning from war, John expects to die of his shoulder wound infection.<br/>He contacts Sherlock Holmes to find his sister.</p><p>Sherlock never wanted to be someone’s last wish. And yet…</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Last Wish

**Author's Note:**

> No beta.
> 
> This was just a little plot bunny that wouldn't leave my head.

John sat up in the hospital bed reaching for his laptop. He hesitated to open it.

Was it worth it? Harry wasn’t interested in his issues. Never had been.

But she was all he had left.

Sholto was gone

Once more John stared at the newspaper article about Sherlock Holmes *Consulting Detective*. The only one in the world.

Mr Holmes,

my name is John Watson, army doctor recently sent home from military service in Afghanistan.

I was invalided and therefore I am now back in London for treatment in St. Bartholowmew’s Hospital.

John stilled clenching his fists. He had to tell the whole story to get someone as famous as Holmes interested in his pathetic story.

Due to complications I am to expect to lose consciousness in the next days caused by a sepsis. If I don’t agree to amputate the left arm, that is.

I told my doctor that I was well aware of the consequences but, in fact, tired of running from death.

John took a deep breath, trying to make the tears disappear.

It was rediculous! Pointless!

Why I am writing:

My sister Harriet Watson is my last living relative.

It would take a burden off my shoulders to know that she is informed about my situation and the necessary paperwork is taken care of.

I was not successfull in my attempts to find her.

This is my request: Take the ‘case’ and find Harriet. That is all. 

For further information, please contact me via mail.

 

Yours sincerely,

John H. Watson

 

John exhaled sharply as he hit sent.

It was short, informal and hopeless. Just like he himself thought John with a tight smile.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morgue was lit by neon lights, coldly fluttering yellow.

Sherlock Holmes sat motionless infront of his monitor.

The temperature seemed even lower than usual.

Staring at the mail he had read over 20 times in the last few minutes, Sherlock felt his heart beat in his chest. Hard enough, he expected it to burst.

‘Sherlock?’ Molly sat down the cup of coffee and walked over. ‘What happened?’

Sherlock just swallowed when she lent over his shoulder to read.

 

‘My God…’

He nodded.

 

Molly narrowed her eyes. ‘Wait. St. Bartholowmew’s Hospital? St. Bart’s? So he… he lies in this building?’

 

The detective stood very slowly.

‘I will take this case right now.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One light knock on the door woke John from his slumber.

The pain killers did their job.

‘Come in.’

A long coat with a mob of curls on top entered.

‘The nurse was so kind to show me your-’

Hazel met blue steel.

 

John smiled.

‘Mr Holmes! Now that’s a surprise. I didn’t expect you to consult me.’

‘Sherlock. Please.’ Came the low baritone as the detective stepped closer.

‘John.’ He held out his hand.

The detective looked down. Not sure if shaking it was a good idea. Red and slightly swollen.

John laughed as he grabbed it hesitantly.

‘It won’t fall off. *Yet*, I suppose.’

Sherlock didn't know what to say.

He cleared his throat with some difficulties.

‘I received your mail. I was working in the morgue of St. Bart’s.That’s why I’m… I’ll take the case.’

‘You were working in the morgue?’

‘It’s part of my job. There are corpses from time to time.’ He stopped when he realized. Wide eyed Sherlock turned pale.

‘Yeah… I guess. God this is awkward.’ John shifted and couldn’t supress another grin.

‘I’m glad you’re interested in finding Harry for me.’

Sherlock nodded. Clearly releaved he sat down next to his client.

‘Of course.’

‘There’s a folder with pictures of her and all pieces of information I could think of.’ John waved in the nightstand’s direction.

Sherlock watched him mustering.

‘Do you hope your sister will stay at your side?’

John shrugged.

‘She has my stuff, someone has to take care of getting rid of it. That’s all I expect really… I don’t have a flat that needs to be sold, though. Thank God for that…’

There was silence.

‘I play the violin when I’m thinking. Sometimes I don’t talk for days on end. Would that bother you?’

John’s head shot up.

‘A cozy place in central London. Together we could afford it.’

The doctor looked pained.

‘Sherlock I…’

Sherlock leaned over.

‘What? You’ve given up? I‘m just as broke as you are. I’ve spent more nights in the gutter than I remember. And I need an assistant…’

John shook his head and giggled.

‘You’re asking me to change my mind because you’re too lazy to do your work?’

‘I feel responsible for talking you out of your plan to die. Obviously.’

Sherlock inhaled and took the reddened palm in his.

‘I’d much rather be your reason to live than your dying wish.’


End file.
